


The Secret Sauce

by ThatScottishShipper



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Connor being Connor, Don’t post to another site, Hank Anderson Swears, Licking, M/M, Pining Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Pining Hank Anderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 16:58:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17532650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/pseuds/ThatScottishShipper
Summary: In which Hank eats a burger, and Connor becomes the bane of fast food joints everywhere. Mutual pining is involved.





	The Secret Sauce

The crisp, bone chilling air did little to deter Chicken Feed regular Hank Anderson from getting his afternoon lunch. His favourite haunt had just launched a new burger, and the lieutenant was getting first bite of the most ‘mouth watering meat and heart warming sauce in all of Detroit.’

Swayed by such a promising promotion from his long time friend, what Hank really wanted to try was this ‘secret sauce’ that proprietor of the small food van bragged about.

‘Out of this world,’ Gary Kayes had insisted to his best customer. ‘Warms the body and the taste buds.’

As full of his own horse shit as Gary was at times and - in his detective partner’s own words - ‘a low lying criminal with an expired healthy and safety license,’ Hank grew to like the cocky cook, and liked to think he was a reasonably good judge of character.

Call it a detective’s instinct honed over too many years on the force, but Hank trusted his buddy enough to not expect death in every bite. And if he bit the dust, at least his last meal was guaranteed to be worth every mouthful.

 

Connor, on the other hand, never seemed entirely convinced, especially when counting the calories for Hank, who elected to ignore his well meaning friend’s advice. The way Hank saw it, humans were destined to bite the bullet someday, so why not go out with a fine meal?

That optimistic borderline fatalist outlook never seemed to sooth Connor’s regard for him, and Hank swore he saw the android detective flinch with every bite of his XL burger and every sip of his full fat carbonated soft drink.

That morning had been no different, as Hank made his way over to the standing in area with only a built in parasol into the small table to protect consumers from the elements. Even the high bridge supporting the motorway did little to shield them from the chill.

With the exception of windy days, they normally stayed dry underneath the umbrellas, or even under the bridge if Hank desired to choose a table closer to the edge of the dining area. However, Hank Anderson was a creature of habit, a stubborn monster of a man, and always drifted towards the table smack in the middle of the food court.

‘ _Between shadow and light_ ,’ Hank once laughed bitterly upon realising that depending which side he stood on, he could occupy either world.

Sometimes, he craved that sunlight, the brightness after a dark and harrowing night of investigating gruesome crime scenes. Other times, he opted for the shadows, sometimes wondering if the encroaching darkness might swallow him whole one day.

Occasionally, he stood firmly between the duelling forces, curious to find out which would consume him today. As always, his wet behind the ears android partner, Connor, basked in the blinding sunlight beside him.

If Hank wanted to wax a sappy, lyrical ode about Connor’s goofy face being a blinding source of light in his life, that was the perfect time to do so. However, Hank kept the thought to himself, his hunger winning out, as he brought the burger to his lips.

 

Sensing those dark brown eyes watching the giant burger intently, an unspoken warning on the edge of those pretty android lips of his.

Hank lowered the damn burger down, cocking his eyebrows. The sunlight that did touch Hank's face caressed every part of his face, toughened by years of responsibility and heartbreak. His bright blue eyes sparkled like the frost that surrounded them.

It figured that Detroit’s most eccentric, hard boiled cop had the gentlest blue eyes in the whole city.

 

By the time Hank was ready to address the issue, Connor seemed lost in thought, staring straight at him in a manner reminiscent of daydreaming.

Did android daydream of their lieutenants? If so, Connor seemed in his element.

Hank reached over, snapping his fingers directly in front of Connor's face, which seemed to do the trick. The detective came to, surprisingly startled with his perpetual LED flickering yellow. Composing himself, Connor tilted his head at Hank in that puppy like manner, and finally spoke.

“Yes, Ha... Lieutenant?”

A chuckle came from the Chicken Feed van, but Hank just rolled his eyes. He fixed the android with an inquisitive stare, while Connor simply stared at him with calculated precision.

His LED returned to a gentle rotating blue, signalling his return to normal thought processes.

“You okay there, Sparky?” Hank inquired, gesturing at his companion. “You, uh… glitching out or something?”

A flicker of awareness touched the android’s delicate features, before eventually fading into a passive look. Something that did not pass by seasoned lieutenant.

That initial expression, common in shifty convicts but very conspicuous on state of the art androids, was one that Hank Anderson recognised very well. He referred to it as Being Caught Red Handed.

 

“I am stabilised, Lieutenant,” Connor stated with what might have passed as an indignant response. “And called Connor, not Sparky.”

“My sincerest apologies,” Hank sneered teasingly.

The RK800 nodded his head appreciatively, satisfied with the resolution. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Enjoy your meal.”

Before Hank took a generous first bite of his big burger, he shot his partner a mischievous smirk. “I will, _Con_.”

 

The absolute bewilderment that greeted Hank almost made him crack. The widening of those expressive brown eyes, the ever so slight parting of those soft lips, and that LED - regular as clockwork - spinning gold upon the side of Connor's temple.

Surprise. If Hank gave a name to the delight that faced him, it was definitely surprise. And he'd be a lying, no-good-son-of-a-gun if he didn't admit catching such an advanced android unaware felt like a crowning moment of awesome for the first time in years.

What really cinched the deal for Hank was that adorable manner in which Connor tilted his head, averting his eyes to the floor, and mouthing the affectionate nickname to himself like some sort of confused robo-puppy.

It was the sort of endearing innocence that still gave Hank faith in this crappy world.

 

As he laughed softly, relishing that explosion of flavour in his mouth, Hank's attention was drawn to Gary's new work of art. He recognised a nippy hot sauce that really did take the edge off the cold bite in the air, and maybe something sweet too? The burger meat itself might have been given the treatment too, but Hank couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Whatever it was, Hank felt out of this world, giving an appreciative wave to Gary, who had been confidently awaiting the praise that was due. The cocky asshole grinned, pretending to wipe down the counter top as he worked.

 

Connor, meanwhile, still ruminated upon the confusing moniker, his entire processors attempting to analyse why Hank gave him such a strange name. He stressed his name was Connor after objecting to Sparky, so why did Hank abbreviate it?

Better yet, why did the shortened name cause his thirium pump to malfunction? And his internal heating seemed to be in need of repair as well.

‘ _Odd_ ,’ Connor thought, dismissing the warnings popping about these strange errors as unimportant.

He ran through every piece of information he could gleam from his advanced network, and came across a potential clue.

_Open document._

_Nickname.doc.exe._

_A nickname is a substitute for the proper name of a familiar person, place, or thing - commonly used used for affection._

_A nickname can be a form of endearment and amusement, or affection between those in love or with a close emotional bond._

_Close document._

Connor felt relieved, but even more confused. Hank gave him a nickname, which - according to his information - indicated a close emotional bond between the two.

It was certainly a far cry from the budding days of their detective partnership that, without a doubt, got off on the wrong foot. Connor struggled to put the difficult lieutenant at ease, though that changed with time.

The most perplexing thing about the whole nickname thing was it could mean anything. Endearment? Amusement?

...Affection? Love?

Which was it?

Heat engulfed his entire body, along with several more pesky error messages in the network of his mind. Conflicting messages and signals further complicated his attempt to locate a solution to his problem.

 

Connor's entire thought dilemma was only visible with that constant yellow ring swirling around quickly on the side of his head. Hank did notice, of course, but put it down to Connor being Connor and doing Connor stuff, then swiftly returned to the glory that was his burger.

One bite in, and Hank was in heaven.

The secret sauce dribbled down his fingers from a single bite, and he began to suck the remnants away on every finger, leaving his pinkie as he turned to Gary, beaming.

“Compliments to the chef.” He pointed at his burger still in the other hand. “You gotta tell me what's in this, man.”

The cook gave a hearty laugh, shaking his head. “No way, Hank. Trade secret.”

“Whatever it is, in this sauce, you've nailed it-...”

 

Hank trailed off, taken aback by his hand being pulled away from him, and brought close to Connor. Without missing a beat, the detective parted his lips, and methodically trailed his tongue along Hank's finger, cleaning it of any remaining sauce.

All the while, Connor's chocolate brown eyes never left Hank, even as the gruff lieutenant yanked his hand away, absolutely shocked, and beaming red.

“Connor, what the _fu-?!_ ”

While Connor's confusion clouded mind continued to process everything around him, Hank's own brain came to a screeching halt. His own android had just licked him, licked his finger clean, in a public setting.

The same tongue that sampled blood and pigeon shit at crime scenes had ran across the tip of his finger like warm silk.

Hank shivered.

 

As Gary guffawed hysterically from his van, hunched over the side like a man possessed, Hank spluttered with a crimson face, trying to form words that didn’t degenerate into swearing, but nothing came to him.

The burger fell unceremoniously from his hand, all interest instead placed upon what the RK800 model, one of Cyberlife’s advanced prototypes just did.

Connor sucked his finger. In _public_.

‘ _Blending harmoniously into society, my ass,_ ’ Hank lamented, barely able to hear his own thoughts over his heart jack hammering inside his chest.

 

And the android in question stilled for a spell, lost in calculated thought, that penetrating stare rattling Hank to the core. Among an entire network system of logic and rationalisation, currently lagging from overheating by an unknown error, Connor's entire focus was on Hank, and his words.

‘ _Whatever it is, in this sauce…_ ’

Unsure of whether his innate desire to assist, or some other mysterious factor he was eager to identify, Connor had acted accordingly, unaware of the social faux pas he committed.

A strange connection took place as Connor's senses translated every individual molecule that touched his tongue, from the secret sauce to Hank's own DNA.

Then the analysis occurred in rapid fire succession.

 

“Garlic powder.

Onion powder.

Yellow mustard.”

 

Suddenly, the laughter stopped, and Hank saw that Gary was absolutely speechless, bug-eyes and slack jawed, as Connor proceeded to breakdown the entirety of his alleged ‘secret sauce.’

Once Connor completed his self assigned task, shooting a smirk at his partner, pleased as punch. Still disorientated from the blatant finger sucking action that only Connor was capable of projecting as innocent, Hank turned to Gary.

A steaming livid red face greeted him.

Hank buried his mortified face against his hands, wishing the frost dusted ground would swallow him up.

 

As if to further intensify the awkwardness of the situation, Connor added a curt and polite finish that - to Hank - might as well as have been a cherry topping the entire shit sundae that was this cringe fest.

Because decimating his closest out of work friendship of many years by spilling company secrets wasn't enough.

“That is what is edible in the secret sauce.” And as an afterthought. "And Hank."

 

 

Flustered and painfully uncomfortable, Hank groaned, unsure of what to do with himself. Thankfully for him, Gary did the job for him, thrusting his thumb towards the lieutenant’s beat up car and ordering him to “take his plastic boyfriend and beat it.”

Which, at that stage, Hank was all too happy to oblige, burning with shame under the eyes of across the road workmen curious about the incident. Silently, he grabbed the back of Connor's suit, akin to a parent disciplining their unruly child, and dragged him towards the car.

And Connor, tugged away from a crime screen of his making, actually bid the enraged fast food gourmet a goodbye wave.

 

As Hank tossed the spectacle causing source of his embarrassment in the front seat, driving as fast from the Chicken Feed as legal speed limits would permit, the done lieutenant clenched the steering wheel, hardened glare on the road ahead.

But his growling words? They were intimately reserved for Connor.

Sweet, unassuming Connor, and his adorable chocolate eyes and confused little pout.

“Remind me to never eat out with you again…”

**Author's Note:**

> My first Detroit: Become Human story, and of course it's a Hank/Connor special. I love these two too much. Their dynamic was easily the best thing in the game.
> 
> This whole idea literally stemmed from "Connor's tongue analysis would totally be the fear of food companies with secret recipes everywhere." And poor Gary gets the brunt of it, with a side helping of flustered, embarrassed Hank.
> 
> Writing Connor was a little tricky, trying to balance an android developing feelings without overdoing either angle, so I hope his thoug processes came out okay. His discoveries of nicknames is a slightly rewritten piece from good old wikipedia, so there you have it. Cyberlife endorses Wikipedia.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoy it. <3


End file.
